IT’S OK TO CRY SOMETIMES

I woke up this morning very emotional and I couldn’t quite figure out why. Rheumatoid arthritis flare up, still recovering from the flu, traveling, personal issues, brain rot, stress, all kinds of shit I guess. But I woke up thinking about the girls. The cheer team. And why this dumb trip is so emotional for me. We leave for Dallas in the morning. It’s no secret how much I love football. And WHY its more to me than just football. It was something special I had with my Dad. And now something special I have with my daughter. She LOVES watching the Cowboys. And that makes me so happy I can’t explain it. My kids were 4 and 6 years old when my Dad died. That they don’t KNOW him makes me so sad. For the few hours football is on I feel like they do. If only a little.

When you say “cheerleading” most people have a stereotype in their heads. I know that. But I tell you what- I can’t think of another sport that not only cheers for and supports EVERY OTHER SPORT, but also competes on their own as well. Year round. And the things they put their bodies through is unreal. CRAZY! It’s not overstating to say it saved me. On many occasions. Being a part of a team is so vital to survival. The friendships I have to this day from cheer mean more to me than I can explain. I met Lauren in 1st grade. We went all through school together. But cheer made us the friends we are to this day. And theres a bond there that cannot be broken. So when Maddie decided to tryout last year for cheerleader my heart was happy. I knew what was in store for her. More that football games, competitions, sidelines, stunting. tumbling…so much more.

Our 6 seniors on our team had their last practice last night. We did a little huddle to have some final words with them. I didn’t cry. I didn’t cry. I woke up this morning in tears. Because all I can think is that will be Maddie in 2 years. I know that the transition from High School to college is big stuff. And it changes everything. And you can’t go back. And time flies. It flies.

It’s no secret Im not your “typical” Mom. I post half nekkid pictures of myself on the internet (for my Beachbody Business not a porn sight, shit). I cuss a lot. Listen to rap music. Im not sentimental. I don’t save their baby stuff. I hate PTA and school shit. I forgot to take them to school one day. I leave them to travel as often as I can. I drink. Im just not a “Mommy, Mommy”. If that makes sense. But I’ll be damned if today isn’t knocking me on my ass. It truly hit me that my girl, that baby I gave birth to 16 years ago is taller than me, smarter than me, looks nothing like me, has strong opinions. and is about to perform on the SAME mat in the SAME arena that I did 27 years ago. And a flood of tears came. Like nothing before. I don’t usually cry and I often proclaim to be a “tough girl”. Maybe Im not quite as tough as I thought.

Maybe Ive just held a lot of shit in for a long time and its finally coming out. Maybe I can remember that insanely anxious, terrified, Im gonna puke feeling of walking out onto that mat in front of 1,000s of people and I know my girls are about to as well. I hope they know how much I love them. And relate to them. And hope for them. And support them. I am so unbelievably proud of the team. This year HAS NOT been easy for any of us. They’ve been through a lot. I have been through a lot. I feel a sense of responsibility to them. This little squad from Colorado heading to the big leagues in the “Texas cheer world.” I feel like Im taking them home. And I know its the last one for a few of them. This team, these exact girls, will never perform together again after this weekend. And thats how it goes I suppose.

27 years is a long, long, long time. But not long enough to forget how incredible the experience is. I guess I’ll just let myself cry today. And be a “Mommy, Mommy”. Sometimes you can only be tough for so long. For 2 and a half minutes on Saturday morning my heart will explode with pride. And nostalgia. And gratefulness. And joy. And hope. Girls are tough man….tougher than most people know. I am. I. AM. Sometimes tough girls cry. And thats ok. Good Luck Palmers House! Lets kick some ass in Dallas.